


When first we met

by KerryLamb



Category: Saga (Comics)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Drama & Romance, F/M, Frenemies, Nerdiness, Soldiers, Star-crossed, bookworm - Freeform, fangirling, pottymouthAlana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerryLamb/pseuds/KerryLamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story of Alana and Marko falling in love, getting pregnant with hazel and running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When first we met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Robin95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin95/gifts).



> In truth this story might be longer than 3 chapters but I dunno how I want to clip it all up.

“ This is  _ so _ .fucking.stupid.”

 

Alana twisted her lips as she eyed the rings shifting across her palm. This time she really had outdone herself. It was this kind of shit that landed her on Cleave in the first place. She wouldn’t have been stealing contraband from lock up if  _ he  _ hadn’t been so earnest she defended herself as she quickly swapped the rings out with a cheap plastic costume pair she had fished out from some skeezy clubwear store. She had bought a few other things and left the change to counterbalance her theft but still it was just one foul deed after another. 

 

Clearly Marko was the bad influence on her she thought solemnly. A few months ago she wouldn’t have been caught dead helping a moony get back family heirlooms. Hopefully she still wouldn’t.

 

Alana tucked the shiny brass bands into her pocket and allowed herself a small sigh.

 

Was this all out of her guilt? She hadn’t meant to hurt the loony as she had during his time in solitary but rules were rules and with her current commander still reporting her actions to the countess she had to be on her best ‘behavior’. Which meant feeding the ram’s jaw the butt of her phraser.

 

As she watched his head snapped back and to the side while blood and bits of molar issued out from his mouth she knew right then that the Robot kingdom, Landfall, Wreath, hell and everyone else too could go fuck themselves.

 

She didn’t sign up for this...well she  _ did _ but not really. Just like every young, dumb 20 something that goes out to the field Alana thought that the end of the war would begin with her. With her awkward family dynamic and string of spastic employment, Alana tried her best to just make a difference somewhere else, do something meaningful instead of doing something mean. 

 

She hadn’t wanted to stand out or make a name for herself. While others went above and beyond to serve their winged nation, Alana careful followed orders and sought the rarely given approval of her commander. 

 

If only she hadn’t delayed in that order to secure her friendlies by disabling the bridge or more aptly sending hundreds of unassuming innocent civilians to their death as they tried to make a living for themselves and their families. 

 

The sight of minihover vans, work vehicles and city buses had taken her out of the mindset of a solider back into the reality of someone who had tried to get by just like them. The detached means in which she’d have them meet their end felt wrong though. If only she hadn’t delayed, if only she hadn’t been there.

 

She had though. Messed up thing though is that she was only regretfully of the thought that she hadn’t just disobeyed completely. Then at least the vehicles crashing down into the ocean wouldn’t be joining the blurring screaming faces as she tried hard to block during the deafening moments of quiet at her station.

 

As she walked down the corridor into the quarry yard she narrowed her eyes against the suns. She sucked at her teeth and tucked the bulky rifle under her arm as while she tapped out a beat with her book against her leg.

 

She’d leave here soon whether by court martial, reassignment from her reformed behavior or death. The rings in her pocket however spoke of a different way out. A harder way than the other three but one where she felt she’d finally find relief. 

 

\----------

 

Alana popped another cube of gum into her mouth and hummed. Her eyes fluttered shut as the initial rush of sugar saturated her mouth and made it grow wet. Licking her lips after the first few chews she peeked over the top of her novel and surveyed the chain gang. Her eyes stopped their circumspection when she caught sight of the ram. Biting at her lip she watched him work tirelessly amid the dust clouds of the quarry.

 

Lifting his hammer he brought it down with an unnerving ease before swinging it back along his side and overhead again. He had a rhythm that stuck out, an easy metallic beat that if he paused Alana always noticed. The absence of that the syncopated ting of the mallet nagged at her like a louse at the wing.

 

Shifting her book lower, Alana let her eyes rove across him as he lowered his hammer.

 

Prisoner #9763572, an enemy combatant that was supposedly a hellraiser when he was out in the field...but then again he was probably just as dumb as the rocks surrounding him. He had to be if he had managed to get himself caught. Being a POW at the royal’s camps made you wish you died in the field.

 

The commander in question sighed and rubbed at his shoulders. She blinked as he shed the top half of his coveralls and continued to soothe at the ache in near his neck. Alana fought and failed to stop watching as he stretched his arms overhead with a loud groan. The noise settled down deep in her stomach and made the gum go sugarless in her mouth. She swallowed down the nearly forgotten lump at the pull of his muscle underneath the taut, hairy skin. Umm,  _ really _ hairy skin actually…wait, did he have a crest of hair going down his back?!

 

Alana’s mouth opened with a low, disapproving groan as she rubbed her palm against her face.

 

“ Oh man, I need to get  _ laid _ . I'm getting so desperate I'm over here checking out the prisoners.” she muttered to herself and went back to her book, thumbing back a few pages where she had first been distracted by him removing the top of his jumpsuit and revealing a whole lot of him that begged to be gawked at.

 

She glanced over again to find him staring at her curiously behind golden, feral eyes. Sweat ran off the curl of the horns framing his face as he stood still watching her with an unnerving gaze. He had been doing that lately, watching her and wasn’t sure what to think of it. 

 

As training and the Robot kingdom would have her believe he was sizing her up to riot his way out of the camp and off the planet but as a woman she knew the attention he gave her was...of a different nature. The intensity of it made her wings itch to be let loose among other uncomfortable, reactive sensations. Like the rubbing her legs together to relieve the phantom pressure between them.

 

The flick of his long leather ears as they wiggled away a fly drew her out of the moment and blessed her with the return of her sanity. She really needed to get some things out of her system.

 

Alana cleared her throat and sat up straight from where she was leaning up against the cliff face. 

 

“ Hey ram! Get back to banging on that track!” she shouted gesturing with the butt of her gun. She had knocked him in the head earlier when he had been yelling up a storm. Most likely she could say literally as Wreathers were known for their spell casting but surprisingly he hadn’t cursed at her in that sing songy blue language of the loonies.

 

Instead the ram had tried speaking to her in the Landfall tongue. Something about not being alone as we thought.

 

And  _ peas _ ?

 

He stared at her for a few seconds longer before he went back to swinging his hammer, flicking his ears at the flies circling around his head but otherwise paying them or anything else no mind. He was still staring over in her direction…

 

She watched as his mouth moved fitfully, his jaw sliding back and forth as his teeth worried his lip. It almost seemed like he wanted to talk to her again.

 

Alana pressed her gum to the roof of her mouth and spoke to him once more. “ Hey...what were you talking about earlier...when you were in your cell?”

 

He blinked, his body froze in position with his hammer held high in the air above his outstretched arms and torso. He remained silent, she could see his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he licked over the spot where she knocked out one of his teeth.

 

She sighed and put her gun and book down. “ Hey man, I’m sorry about that but you know you can’t make all that fucking noise in lock up.” she apologized. It sounded lame even as she said it but it looked like he took it to heart anyways.

 

Slowly the Wreather lowered his hammer and did a quick survey of their surroundings before deciding to speak.

 

“ Alone...you I not alone.” he spoke softly in pigeon.

 

She huffed and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “ God I wish I understood Blue because you are butchering the hell out of my language.”

 

His ears popped up at the mention of his native tongue and he dropped his hammer and started gesturing wildly at his finger. “ Rings! Ringa help listen...help mind understand!”

 

“ Rings?” she questioned scrunching up her nose still chewing at her gum.

 

He nodded vigorously with a laugh and made a motion like he was taking off and putting on a ring. “ Ah, ring! Me rings get you?” he said stumbling over the vowels as his mouth worked arduously to spit them out correctly. 

 

Alana made a face as she massaged her forehead. “ Dude, I never thought I’d say this but you make Landfallese sound...lumpy but I think I get what you’re saying. You…” she pointed at him and then to her hand. “ had some rings you want me to get because…”

 

“ Help listen understand!” he said slowly as if it would help her comprehension.

 

She exhaled through her nose with a huff and rose from her seat. “ Okay okay easy bucko, I gotta admit you’ve got me curious now so stop the hard sell. I’ll go and find these ‘ringas’ or rings or whatever and see what they’ll help me understand but I swear to god if you try something..."

 

She leveled her laser at his head, her sight aligned on the space between his eyes."...I’ll kill you without even batting an eye..."

 

She dusted off her bottom as she went and got McHenry to cover for her while she was out, supposedly on a bathroom break.

 

\-----------

 

Marko worked to ignore the presence of the correction officer. It had been three days since his mention of the rings, the ones he worked hard to imbue with a few different enchantments he had learned from his mother. His father was father was far more proficient in weaving enchantments but that was not their way to have him learn his engagement charms from him.

 

As tradition would have him court her, Marko gained the weddings bands from his bride and fitted them with magic. Gwendolyn asked him to reforge an old pair instead of purchasing a brand new pair, reconstituting the metal from an already charmed heirloom from his parent’s storeroom. 

 

He settled on melting down a single jet silver bracer, that had long lost its mate somewhere between being used out on the field and being placed back in their armory. 

 

Looking back it wasn’t the most romantic pieces he could of used and the fact that it had lost its other half should have been instilled a sense of foreboding for him and Gwendolen but the abused piece of metal had been so heavily charmed that he didn’t have the strength or no how to cast something of equal caliber; enchantments like comprehension of tongue for example . 

 

The speaker had only to open their mouth and the wearer would not only understand but speak as a native in the language as well. It an old magic and rare now with some many grand spellweavers now gone to their graves. He thought that his ivory horned fiancee would be taken with such a token and find entertainment in conversing with anything from a cyclops to a dragon should she wish but even as he folded the white hot metal over the anvil with his hammer he had his misgivings.

 

For a time he loved her deeply, feeling his chest constrict at the mere thought of her lovely face with a smile that was as radiant as her rich brown skin but her heart did not glow with the same brightness. She hated the Landfallese, hated the winged folk enough for the both of them. 

 

As patriotic as he was for Wreath it was her hate of them that finally struck him with a call to arms. Everytime family had fallen in the line of fire he felt moved to take some sort of action but his Gwendolyn’s need to see Landfall burn for their sins is what eventually stirred what malice his father had not broken him of into action.

 

And it had been a terrible thing to behold. Fueled by his mother’s conditioning, military training and unchecked ire Marko slew tens of hundreds, leaving each field in a wake of scales and feathers. If it could obtain flight he put it to his sword and if it stood against Wreath he spat out a spell to shock it out of existence. He would have long since been promoted to Captain or General but the recognition of his bloodlust kept his superiors hungry to have him out on the field. He was the fury of Wreath embodied or so they thought. He knew himself to be the token of his beloved’s hatred for all things with wings and screens and for a long time he was content in that fact.

 

Until a child’s horrified face of what he had done to his father brought him reeling into violently into the truth of his sins. What had he been doing? Why? At what point had he forsaken his soul?

 

Was it his need to give vent to his frustrations? Was it the need to show his Gwen that she had moved him into action? Was it his dead family and friends that powered his vengeance? Were all those things enough to justify living like a monster? Would it give either of them, the boy and himself, any measure of peace that he fought so virulently out of a need to convince himself it was the right thing, the just thing to do?

 

Him seeing who he was through the boy’s eyes Marko lost his will to fight, surrendered as soon as the Winged soldiers reached him. It took the Robots’ units quite a bit of time to suppress their own but they were joyous in his capture. On his moon he was a crazed foot soldier but to all those who feared to oppose him he was known as the bloody ram, the lunar devil, sword horned spellweaver. They had many names for him, all meant to praise and insult him at the same time but he paid the wingbats no mind. All but  _ her _ .

 

The emerald haired girl with the green gossamer wings, she was different as well as gorgeous. Some of the Landfall guard were naturally cruel while others had been numbed beyond compassion but she was different.

 

She rarely disciplined, only when ordered to and when she followed through she made it quick and sharp like ripping off a bandaid. She was always reading too, thumbing through what looked to be pulp fiction smut but he’d never seen anyone so vested in them. One time he saw her crying onto the pages with silent sobs as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, matting her hair across her face while her wet, green eyes look beyond the book forlornly.

 

She still felt. She still mourned. It made her lovely as she was dangerous. 

 

Marko looked over from under his lashes as he tried to give the impression of studying the hem of his jumpsuit’s cuff. She was working her way down the hall with their food, which was nothing more than a hash of cobbled together from half spoiled rations the guards didn’t finish. They’d bake it into a loaf to kill off most of the germs but it still tasted like what it was. Served alongside it was stale, hard water and a shriveled piece of fruit or a baked good that had expired so long ago the dough had gone through several transformations of being soft then hard then soft again. 

 

She got to his cell, looking intently at his tray before sliding it through the break in the forcefield barring his exit. She sneered at him and pointed at plastic cup of water. “ Be careful that you don’t choke on it, horny bastard.”

 

He frowned but she held his gaze and slid the tray over. Taking it up with his hand, Marko peered down at towards where she pointed. Down at the bottom moving with the motion of the liquid were the engagement rings he’d crafted nearly a decade ago.

 

He jerked his head up in surprise but his thank you in blue was lost on his lips as she had already moved onto the next cell. Downing the liquid he caught the rings on his tongue less the camera pick up him fishing his finger into the cup. Pretending to take a bite of the infamous loaf, Marko feigned food getting stuck in his teeth. 

 

Carefully he stuck his ring finger into his mouth and placed the rings onto the digit. They slid on loosely before warming with magic to fasten to his finger in a perfect fit. He tore into his food with renewed zeal. It was still horrible but he ate it with the hope that tomorrow would be better. If he had a tomorrow coming to him in that camp he would wake up looking forward to it.

 

\-----------

 

Alana leaned heavily onto the collection cart, shifting her feet as she made her way down the hall. The fluorescent light buzzed above her in a hollow, mind numbing drone in sync with the hum of the force fields caging her charges. Sad fuckers that they were. They were nice to her though. While she expected total compliance with her orders she gave them some small measure of respect. 

 

While most other COs had to dodge food and shit being flung out along with the trays for Alana the wards would leave the chunky foam plates waiting on the lip of their ‘doors’. She wasn’t fooled by their ‘kindness’ and neither were they by her easy going nature. Should the forcefields go down it would be kill or be killed. Or worse, she always heard that there was worse.

 

She had just collected the tray from the winking, crotch grabbing trihorn lughead when she crossed over to the ram and stopped. She looked at the empty slot and into the cell.

 

The Ram was sitting over in the corner staring at her as he usually did and rose as soon as her eyes found him. He sauntered over and set the tray down slowly, with his eyes still on her. “ Thank you for the water. There’s still some left.”

 

Alana’s brow rose in he took the tray and glance down at the cup. The other ring was down at the bottom, dark and ominous. He had spoken in perfect Landfallese. Hell he had spoken her native tongue better than when she was sober. What the hell was this sorcery? 

 

“ Drink up.” he departing from the door from over his shoulder. 

 

Alana took the tray and set the cup over to the side. Later she thought finishing up her food collection, she would try it on later and see what he had done. There was the off chance that it was boobytrapped and she would zombify as soon as she put it on her finger but he was different.

 

He was still trying to talk to his enemy, he still sought reason and tried to be rational. That coupled with his handsome face made him dangerous and crush-worthy.

 

In the blind spot of the monitors as she dumped out the trash, Alana walked away with a new ring that gave her translations for more than just spoken languages. 

  
Marko felt her put it on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Hopes and Fears? You basically know how the story goes though I'm just putting my own touch on things I saw as canon in the books.


End file.
